My Books

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Second Nature

This is a little teaser for you all.

Halloween Scream

October 31, 2015

Sierra

The noise of the creaking
stairs, the ones I had just crept up, sounded like it echoed in my ears.
Someone had followed us here.

“Jake,” I whispered,
hoping he was messing around. If he was, I would be angry. I lifted one leg
after the other and slipped my high heels off, holding them both so I could
tiptoe through the half-constructed mansion without making noise.

Jake didn't answer, but
the footsteps had stopped from the moment I whispered.

The scary movie marathon
we’d had before Rachel died flashed through my head, bringing ideas and
memories with it. I tiptoed around the corner, brushing my Frankenstein’s bride
dress on the rough edge where the unfinished walls met. The drywall scraped
against me, making me wince as I hurried along the corridor to the back deck.
Whoever was in the house with me was either moving silently too or they were
standing still, listening.

Either way, I had a
terrible feeling this wasn't a game.

That meant one thing: Jake
was injured or hiding.

And I was alone.

My heart raced, my eyes
burned from not blinking—fearful I would miss something—and my mouth was as dry
as a mouthful of popcorn.

The floor creaked.

I froze.

“Sierra,” someone whispered
into the dark.

My skin crawled when I
realized it wasn't Jake. It wasn't his whisper. I’d heard that enough times,
always in the dark, to know it wasn't him.

“Sierra, don't be
scared.” It sounded like something it couldn't be, but I didn't believe. I
stayed perfectly still, waiting for the moment I needed to run to the back deck
and jump down onto the sandy beach.

What had the girls in the
horror movies done wrong? What could I avoid? My mind raced, remembering the
runners always got caught. They always got stabbed. Usually in the back. The
thought of it made my skin burn where I imagined the knife would slice.

The hiders always got caught.
They were the ones breathing too loudly or hiding in stupid places.

“Sierra, I won’t hurt you
if you come to me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut
for half a second and waited for the answer, the right choice, to pop into my
head.

A dog barked, making me
jump and open my eyes. The sound was joined by the creaking of the floorboards again.

With gentle breaths and
controlled movements I crept along the hallway, entering the spot where the
kitchen or master bedroom would likely go. The house was freshly sealed with
windows and doors, but it was still in the drywall stage with plywood floors.

The massive back deck was
through the white French doors, facing the beach and open ocean. The moon
offered light, enough to make shadows move with me.

I hurried to an alcove I
assumed would one day be a nook for a breakfast bar or maybe the ensuite soaker
tub. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the bright white French
doors. If I could make it to them, I was free.

If only I had my cell phone,
I could call the police or Jake or Vincent. Someone would come and help me.
Even Ashton might answer.

But that wasn't an
option. I scolded myself for my weakness in me and forced my focus to be on the
doors. They were my answer. They were my hope.

As I exhaled and plotted
my moment to run and everything I would do from that point on, the floor
creaked in the hallway behind me.